faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

He smiles, leaning against her in return.

"Ah, the hard life of a noble! But I suppose at least we will have many long days to look forwards to, in the future. I hope to upturn at least one tradition, and have a very simple ceremony - or at least, as simple as I can get away with. Especially considering we will have to have two."

"I would prefer a simple ceremony," Eowyn agrees. "And it should not be hard, for all our countries' desire for celebration. Gondor had as grand a wedding as could be wished for its king and queen, and I have no desire to try and match it. And even less desire for it to be turned into an ocassion for political machination, used to cause tension between you and our liege-lord."

There are still those in Gondor not entirely happy with their new king, come from the north out of legend and mystery, and his Elven bride; they would prefer to continue with the line of Stewards as they are used to. Eowyn knows Faramir's loyalty to Aragorn is unshakeable, but others still seek to use him all the same. She is too shrewd not to expect it, well used to court politics herself.

A sudden gleam lights her eyes. "I wonder, could we convince them all to move the Rohirric wedding forward, to now? It would not count to Gondorian minds, but we would be wed by the standards of Rohan, for the remainder of this trip." Her grin is wicked. "And then we might share a bedchamber, and thus end all concern about our improper behavior."

Faramir raises an eyebrow and smiles.

"My lady is wise and canny indeed! We could always try." There is only so much he can do in Gondor to minimise things - indeed, he's already started organising what may be organised without her - but some things are political, and he cannot be either too simple, nor too grand. But here, in Rohan, in her home ground...

"Should we ask?"

"That depends." She needs her head closer still, resting her forehead against his, entirely heedless of the company and merriment around them. They have a small bubble of intimacy amidst the noise. "On if you would be willing to wed your wild shieldmaiden as soon as may be."

They're so close he can feel her breath, and he doesn't even think before he closes the distance and kisses her, her lips warm under his.

"I think." He murmurs as he backs away. "That this poor captain of Gondor would be utterly delighted, if she would have him."

"If?" Her laugh is a quiet but infinitely joyous thing, as is the kiss that follows. It is not unchaste for all its sweetness, though it perhaps goes on longer than it should.

It's broken off abruptly when Éowyn makes a startled squeak of not-quite-pain, as the lady she was speaking to earlier has just rapped her on the head and now eyes Faramir, clearly wondering if she can administer the same to him without causing some sort of diplomatic incident. This, clearly, is Hilde, and obviously she is taking her appointed duty seriously. There is amusement and understanding I'm her measuring gaze, at least, rather than outright reproach.

Edited 2018-06-27 09:05 (UTC)

Faramir makes a startled sound when Eowyn squeaks, and when he sees the lady, long-ingrained manners promptly bring his hands down from where they were around Eowyn's waist.

"Ah... good even, mistress?" He tries.

Eowyn almost rolls her eyes at this interruption, and stands. "I will speak to my brother," she says pointedly, briefly taking and squeezing one of Faramir's hands as she walks by.

Hilde makes a small tut noise at her charge's back, and turns back to Faramir with a raised eyebrow. "My lady has ever fought against her jesses," she says, meeting his eyes squarely. "But I've heard you described as a man of both sense and wisdom, my lord Steward. I hope you are not going to disprove your reputation."

"I will see you soon then." He smiles at her and squeezes back, before turning his attention to Hilde.

Faramir flushes a little, the scolding tone reminding him of his own nurses from his youth. But he stands straight and politely nods.

"Yes mistress. I apologise for my, er, forwardness. I love your lady very much, and will do my best to not disgrace either her, nor myself."

"The way you feel about her is moderately obvious," the lady says dryly, taking a seat and gesturing for him to do the same. "Don't mistake my meaning. It's a pleasure and a relief to see her so happy. She hasn't looked so since...oh, years, long before even the Worm's coming. And those years were dark indeed." She shakes her head. "He was too well named, that one, and good riddance to him."

Faramir sits obediently, but his eyes darken when she mentions the Worm.

"She speaks little of those days." he says grimly. "But the little I can glean is none too pleasing. I am sorry for your king! A poor counselor is unfortunately not always escapable, but one who speaks words of poison to king and people alike is a terrible burden."

He pauses, hesitantly. "He did not... hurt her?"

Hilde looks a little grim, remembering. "I doubt in the way you mean; he was not a man to take direct action when he could have others do it for him. But there are ways and ways of hurting." She waves a hand. "You would do better to ask her yourself. If she has not spoken of it, all the more reason she should."

Faramir's face darkens.

"Wretch." He says softly. "I am glad he is dead. I will, if you think it would help her."

Hilde raises an eyebrow. "You would know better than I if she is at all troubled by such memories," she says bluntly. "Or her brother the king, perhaps. Guilt over that time weighs heavily on his conscience still."

She glances towards the front of the hall. where Eowyn and Eomer are standing a little apart, engrossed in conversation. Eomer looks serious at first, then says something that makes Eowyn push him on the chest--not lightly, from the looks of it, though he doesn't budge--and both laugh. Hilde chuckles. "But here, let us have peace between us. I'll make amends for taking you to task for your forwardness--" There's a slight dig in the way she emphasizes the word he used earlier, though no unkindness in her gaze, "--by telling you a few stories of the lady's youth, if you'd like to hear them. And you can even the trade by telling me about the land you're taking her to. Is it a fair offer?"

Faramir nods, understanding, his eyes gentling with fondness as they find her and Eomer talking.

"I would with good will, my lady, for I love Gondor right well, and I wish her who holds my heart to love my land too."

He has no time that evening - but the next day they have their lunch together, and in the semi privacy of a ride he wonders if he should broach the subject.

"Eowyn?"

Éowyn had returned to find her betrothed chuckling as Hilde told a tale of the first time she'd disarmed an opponent, and been so overexcited and determined to follow through that she'd tripped and fallen into a nearby haystack. She'd ended the conversation as quickly as possible before more embarrassing tales could be told, and the rest of the evening had passed happily enough.

The next morn saw more work for them both, but then a private lunch, where she revealed that Éomer had promised to think on her idea and discuss it with Aragorn, but no further.

A ride was a welcome diversion into fresh air for them both, not least as the weather had gentled. "Hmm?" she said, looking across the plains and only half-attending.

He watches her, for a moment distracted by her very clear joy at riding.

"The Lady Hilde ... loves you very much. She expressed... her concern for... a darker time in your life. If... I don't wish to push, but Eowyn, you know you can talk to me about anything, yes?"

Idiot he berates himself.

His hesitation and unease catch her attention, for both are very unlike him. Understanding dawns rapidly, and she walks her horse a little closer to his and reaches out to take his hand and squeeze it briefly.

"I do know." She tilts her head, fixing him with her direct gaze. "Just as I hope you know you may ask me anything, love. I had not realised you wondered."

He relaxes, now that it is clear he has not upset her by asking.

"I try not to." he confesses. "But it does bother me a little, not knowing how you were hurt, despite that I could not have known at the time, nor been able to do anything, e'en should I have known."

"Indeed you could not have, for you did not even know me then except as a name." Her mouth quirks a little, not quite a smile. His concern is touching, though she hope it does not extend into guilt. That would be foolish. "What is it you wish to know?"

"Whatever you can tell me?"

He shrugs shyly.

"It is a little irrational, I suppose. But I want to be able to share everything with you, Eowyn, even the most terrible things."

Faramir's words warm her heart more than the sunlight. Eowyn stands in her stirrups and leans over the gap between their horses to kiss his cheek, heedless of their distant escort or anything else; Windfola merely flicks an ear at his rider's antics.

She sits back in her saddle, still smiling, though that fades as she begins to think. "I would need to start from the beginning, to give a context," she says finally. "But I find I cannot tell where the beginning was, for things changed most gradually. That was the difficulty; the trap had closed around us before we knew it was there." She glances at him. "What have you heard, of Grima Wormtongue?"

There is no question that that is what this conversation is about, for all that the name had not yet been spoken.

He smiles at the kiss, catching up her hand to kiss her knuckles as she sits back down. But as the topic changes so also does his mien, sobering.

"Little, I fear, for we were much occupied with the defense of Osgiliath, at the time. But I know that he came to great prominence in your uncle's court, although none could say how. I know that they say he cursed your uncle, perhaps was even poisoning him, certainly was the reason for his decline."

It surprises her a little that he has not heard more from Merry before the perian's departure, or from Aragorn or even Mithrandir; but then, Grima is harmless now, wherever he and his master are. There have been far more pressing matters for them all.

"The first I or any knew of him was when he became one of my uncle's counselors," she says finally, after much thought. "A position he gained on his own merits, by dint of clever tongue and clever thought, and at first he seemed able. We paid him little mind, for he was but one of many, and seemed dark and slight compared to other men."

Her lips thinned. "A grave error, that now seems to me. But how could we have known? For we were all much distracted. More and more bands of orcs roamed our lands, and Eomer and Theodred had much to do with driving them off, as Theoden-king grew older before our eyes. He had ruled for forty years, and at first it seemed understandable that he grew tired, more inclined to listen to his advisors and less to use his own judgement."

She sighs, looking down at Windfola's neck but not seeing it, and is silent for several minutes. "He grew...frail," she says finally. "Older he was, but should still have been hale, and yet his hair whitened and his eyes dimmed and his mind wandered. I cared for him as best I could, willingly acting as his nursemaid, for he was as dear as a father to me. I could not accompany my brother and cousin as they kept our lands safe, but that I could do. But he dwindled and dwindled, giving more of his power and responsibility over to Grima, who by then was called Wormtongue for the skill he had at bending people to his will with words. And then Theodred--"

Her voice chokes at that, and she must pause for a moment as sudden tears fill her eyes. When she had first returned to Edoras her grief for Theodred had been born anew, and she and Eomer had both wept for their lost cousin as much as for his father, for there had been little time to mourn him before.

He rides in silence by her, waiting patiently for her to gather her thoughts, nodding slowly as she describes the beginning - one that he can easily see, for it mirrors, a little, his own father's fall.

"Oh Eowyn." He grieves with her. Theodred he knows a little, although he was Boromir's friend, not his. "Was Grima... did he plan for Theodred?"

/gently pets

Hi I've been reading too much Annafan on A03.

lol nothing wrong with that. Also I saw a player on LOTRO the other day "Farawyn" XD

Ohhhh I like that. Must not steal for a plurk name...

LOL go ahead if you want

Should we do this thing?

Yesssssssss

pardon me while I BS

I won't tell =p

AN OPENING!

XD

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I leave it to you to decide if he'd want to broach the subject now or later. Happy to timeskip. ;)

o7 eh, he'll do it in a little while, probably XD he won't want to

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I think given the timeline they wouldn't have heard about Grima and Saruman's death in the Shire yet

agreed